Yes, Master
by clam theif
Summary: He's always so dominant. So forceful...But even someone as strong as him, needs to be beaten into submission now and then. But, that's what fetish clubs are for. And those who submit to others...now and then, need to be forced to dominate another. MxM2
1. Chapter 1

**I'm such a horny little bitch! Hahahaha. Just and idea that came to me. I was watching CSI and it was this episode that involved a fetish club…and I envisioned a lot of it with Matt and Mello…So, it worked out all kinky like in my favor. Enjoy this while I work on Flaunt It.**

I love the smell of sex. It's sweaty, bloody, icy and metallic all at the same time. It has a taste too, but that's so incredibly indescribable. There's no way to describe the taste of something like that. There are some people that love to rub it in your face how much they love the taste ad smell of sex. There are others though, who hide it, keep it hidden from the world. And then…there are those…who flaunt it, but in certain places.

This club is one of those places.

It has the smell of sex. But the scent is masked by a powerful mask of cannabis scented incense, and therapeutic candles with the aroma of vanilla and lavender. It smells like a Grateful Dead concert back in the good ole' days. Not that I'm that old, or have ever been to a Grateful Dead concert.

The lobby is painted an illustrious shade of red, almost the color of blood, or perhaps the color of lust. There's intricate, mahogany carvings along the walls, tangled within the vines of exotic plants. The room is shaped like a hexagon, and against the two sides near the door I enter, there are two benches. They're almost antique, and are fit with a red leather, so dark that it is almost brown. Before me…is the desk, with Lady Calliope. She's one of the two owners of the club. She's dressed just as beautifully as always.

Her breast was bound tightly in an indigo corset top, with almost spiderweb like lace crawling up her neck, as if a spider was living within the crevice of her bosom. The lace was just to catch the eyes of unsuspecting men, and lure them in before her sadistic nature slipped out and sucked the innards of the man's soul into her existence. She's pale. She always is. I never know if it's naturally like that, or just heavy white powder and eyeliner.

"Back again, I see?" she says enchantingly. She leans on one shoulder, revealing her nails. They're long, painted a marvelous shade of blue, and they shimmer in the light. "Would you like the usual?"

I smirk and shake my head, setting at least double my payment in front of her. "Not today." I say, smiling. "I want something new. I want something you guys haven't done with me before. There's got to be someone here who hasn't taken me for a spin."

Her face lights up in intrigue. "I never realized you were like that." She says with a grin. She places the hand on the money, but my hand slams down on hers.

"I don't want to see who it is." I say harshly. "I want it to be a surprise." Lady Calliope smiles once again and walks around the desk.

"Shall I escort you?" she asks almost curiously.

I almost want to hit her.

"I'm here to be dominated. Of course I do."

Lady Calliope yanks me by the arm roughly, and begins to drag me down the hall. Her skin is like ice. I'm already enjoying it.

She brings me to the storage room. Everything can be found here.

Chains.

Whips.

Gags.

Handcuffs.

Collars.

Enemas.

Machines.

Wax.

Latex.

Every. Fuckin'. Thing. A. BDSM. Fiend. DREAMS. About.

Lady Calliope throws me down on to a single, open card table chair in the center of the room. She knows how I like it. She usually is the one to dominate me.

But today, she's only preparing me.

She points at my shirt. "Take it off." She insists harshly.

I nod slowly and remove it, revealing the zipper's charm, the symbol for BDSM pride, as I drop it from my arms.

She stares at my pants momentarily, but decides against having me remove them just yet.

"You always come prepared." She says almost exasperatedly as she turns and rummages on a shelf.

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask coyly.

"Not at all." She replies, turning to me, and yanking me by the hair. In her hand is a mask. Not a blindfold. A mask. It goes entirely over the head, and has three zippers upon it. One over each eye, and one over the mouth. I've been waiting to use this for ages.

Lady Calliope forces it over my head, forcing every strand of my hair in with it as well, she yanks a bit, but I'm used to it here. Pain is what I expect.

I begin to ask for what else, but find it incredibly hard to talk with the mask on. It's almost skin tight. There's just a tiny bit of space for my flesh to breath, and two slits by my nose for fresh oxygen.

I can barely hear Lady Calliope. She's speaking but it's so hard to hear through the fabric.

She yanks my arms and holds them behind my back, and I feel the sensation of cool metal against my wrists.

I'm a real bondage slave now.

And then began the deliverance to my Master for the evening.

The door creaks slowly. Air hisses through the small gap as it shuts.

Heavy footfalls echo in the small room, approaching me, their target.

A small smirk plays upon their lips as they look down at me. I can feel it.

They have this presence. I can sense it.

It's masculine.

That was just it.

A man.

I feel the smirk widened, leather creaks gently with each booted step towards me.

I look around, sitting on another folding chair, despite not having any knowledge of what room I'm placed in appears like.

I look down, again, not able to see what lays before me. I smile beneath the mask. This is what I want. I did say I wanted something new.

Oh how I want to beg for my new Master's touch. But my hands are locked in place, and my mouth is blocked from speech.

I can feel myself getting stiff already.

I've been waiting for this.

The footsteps stop.

A boot kicks at my feet, shifting them further apart.

He leans forward, gripping my masked chin and tilting it to the side.

Hot breath hits the side of my neck.

I need this.

I feel blood stirring.

I feel flesh rising.

Please Master…dominate me…

Make me feel like scum.

I groan beneath the mask, my lips begin to move and plead for more.

"Nnngh." was the sound of the groan that I release.

It almost seems as if my Master for the evening was new at this

...Then again.

They all start this way.

He slaps me hard across the face, despite the mask.

I moan. This is what I want.

Yes Master…Please…

He moves close to where my ear is. He hisses directly into it.

"You will speak when spoken to," he grips on to my jaw tightly, jerking me forward, "Is that understood?"

I nod slowly at his forceful blow. Yes, my Master. Yes…Of course. I understand. Do with me what you will.

"You're trash, you know." He says again. I can barely hear him. He's farther from my ear, and the leather covering it is blocking any sound from getting directly to me.

I nod at his response, muttering to myself. "Yes. I am trash." He can hear these words, grips me by the jaw once again.

"I said…" he snarls, punching me in the face. He's wearing leather gloves, and the sound they make against the mask turns me on. "You will _speak when spoken too!_" He roars this at me, and I feel pressure between my legs.

The tip of his foot is right over my balls.

I want him to press harder.

I'd let my Master crush my balls to pieces.

Yes Master…please…give me more.

I nod at him again. Yes…anything.

"I don't get your type…" he snarls at me. "So high and mighty…" He presses his foot down on me. I throw my head back, wanting to scream.

I promised my Master I wouldn't.

"Only _really_ dominant fuckers come in…" he continues, saying these words directly into my ear. "They need to sensation being fucked with." He wraps a hand around my chin, holding it up so if my eyes were visible, I'd be staring my Master in his eyes as well.

I'm not worthy… I want to tell him this.

"You must be pretty sick." He says to me.

I feel intense heat on my chest, right above my nipple. I cringe, and can't help but scream.

It's audible through the mask.

It's a cigarette burn. I can feel the small circular burn flaring up with heat.

"What did I say!?" he roars at me.

My head is thrown to the side. He's risen a leg and kicked me square in the side of the head.

I have said I wanted something new.

I turn and face his general direction again.

Yes Master…More…

"What's your problem?" he continues. "You should fuckin' know how to submit, shouldn't you?" He grabs me by the back of the mask. "If I fuckin' hit you, you stay down, you useless piece of shit!"

I nod slowly at him. He's right.

He is my Master, and I am his Slave.

Yes Master…

Whatever you say.

Another thud to the head, he's kicked me again, but this time, twice as hard, knocking me from the chair. I fall to the floor. It's cold.

Cement.

But yet…

It feels spotlessly clean.

Yes Master…I deserve this. More. Please.

He steps towards me, I can almost feel him already.

My nipples harden.

I'm trying to get up, but my hands are lame and useless behind my back, chained together with steel.

Master runs the toe of his boot along my chin, lifting me up.

"Much better." He purrs, running a leathery hand along my chest.

He's crouched down to my level. I can tell from the creak of leather.

The mask has been knocked around a bit.

My hair is sticking out the back.

"If you keep this up…" he continues, rolling one of my nipples in his hand. I moan softly into the mask. He pinches me harder. This time, this is punishment for speaking.

Moaning is more accurate.

"I think I should reward you." He says. His other hand is upon the mask, grasping the zipper of my mask over my mouth. I nod.

Yes…Ma—"ster…." My words come out for him to her. Cool, sweet oxygen enters my lungs. I take it all in hungrily.

But that hunger isn't satisfied.

My Master covers my mouth with his lips. Usually…it's against their code to make such contact.

I moan. His lips are warm from the cigarette he placed on my chest. His tongue penetrates my mouth, it's wiggling like a snake being held down by a pitchfork. His mouth is so delectable.

I'd take him home if I could…

Oh Master…Yes…

I've got nothing but a layer of leather between my legs to hide my erection. The bulge is throbbing and it needs to be pleased.

Now.

But I can't reach it.

Master pulls from me. My tongue sticks out stupidly, waiting for him to make another move.

He's still crouched down near me, but his hand is grasping the back of my mask. I don't dare speak. I want to. But I don't dare.

Master told me not to.

"Do you want to feast upon the eyes of your Master?" he asks into my ear. "Do you want to see the man who's abusing your frail form and satisfying your every fetish?"

I nod.

I get no answer for a moment.

Master strikes me in the face again.

"Speak."

I nod again. "Y-yes Master." I croak deeply, my voice sounding nothing like my own.

"Much better." He says almost amusingly. He grasps the back of the mask. "And your freedom from this is your reward."

Slowly, my face is freed from the confining leather as he lifts it from my head.

I gasp heavily as my mouth is freed.

Master yanks my hair as I gasp.

I nod. I know not to speak.

Yes Master, I understand.

My eyes are slowly revealed.

Master yanks my hair back.

My eyes open.

I stare my Master in the eyes.

Green, almond shaped, bright, but sadistic.

Glowing and gorgeous.

He stares at mine.

Azure, oval shaped, empty and masochistic

Hazardous and hateful

And at the same time…

We say one another's name.

"Matt?"

"Mello?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone, I need to seriously apologize for the lateness of this. I was in the hospital recently (Don't freak out, it was only for a few days, I'm fine) and that I've been working on a lot of school work. I've decided to stop asking for people to give me big, somewhat detailed reviews…because few of you listen. But this is what I ask instead…If you're not going to give a nice review to my smut…please, read my fic Chasing Cars, and review that. I just write smut when I get the urge, but Chasing Cars is a fic I poured my heart into. Please, take the time to read that and review it once you're done with this. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks so much!**

We stare at each other. We're both crouched on the like some kind of kid poking a corpse. Matt's smiling. I'm stunned.

He's a fuckin' dominatrix.

So…This is his job. I always wondered where he went from five to eleven every night. I knew he went to work. I guess this is why he never said. Strange. I go to the same fetish club he works at.

I smile at him. We both start laughing.

"Is this some sort of cry for attention?" I ask, sitting up slightly, kissing him on the cheek, despite the handcuffs still binding my wrists.

Matt yanks away from me, wiping his cheek on his shoulder. That's the first time he's rejected me.

"Not at all." He says, standing up, smirking at me. I think we've decided not to ask too many questions. "I'm a guy. It's only natural for me to want to feel dominant, isn't it?"

I laugh and squirm, trying to stand up. "That explains you, but not me." Matt looks down at me. He does have a pretty obvious hard on. I seriously wish I could blow him right about now.

Fucking code. Mother fucking code.

"Explain later." Matt says, turning from me. He's wearing flesh tight leather pants…with several vinyl straps hanging from it. I wish my face could fall into my hands. "This could be more fun for both of us."

"Are you wearing my pants?" I ask, shifting so I'm sitting on my knees. I begin to debate if his hard on was always there, or if after realizing it was me, it grew stiff. Matt glances back at me.

He's still wearing goggles. They're cyber goth goggles though. One side is neon blue with a black x going across it, the other is the BDSM pride flag. I want to wear those sometime. "Heh." He smirks. "They are." I had been wondering where those pants went.

"Why's it going to be more fun?" I ask, trying to look as desperate as possible. I was pretty desperate though.

I'm about to bend down to my crotch and rip my pants off with my teeth. Fuck him being dominant. I want my cock inside him.

"Because I can punish you." He says, having gone across the room, returning with some incredibly familiar objects. They're ours. Our riding crop. Our gag. Our beads. Our blindfold. They're all ours. I wonder if he brings them with him every day, or if he leaves them here for a while.

"For what, Matt?" I ask. Matt raises a foot and kicks me down to the ground with the toe of his boot…They're also mine.

"We're still on the clock, you whore." He hisses. "You will not call me by my name. You will call me 'Master', understand?" I nod, and Matt crouches down to me. "Besides…You're being punished for coming here to be dominated." He whispers this into my ear, sending warm, but chilling vibrations along my spin. "All you have to do at home, Mel." He runs one of his gloved hands—for once, the gloves aren't mine—along my back. "I'd gladly fuck the shit out of you at home."

I laughed. "And I'd gladly let you." It seems we have some relationship problems. I almost want to say his name again.

"We're going to have a talk when I get home tonight, Mello." He whispers again. His breath is so…there's no word for it. Arousal is too formal. Kinky is too inappropriate. Erotic is too dirty. It's just…It's something worthy of a good jacking off to.

Matt's hands wrap around, cupping between my legs. I moan. He squeezes me. "That's right, Mello." Matt whispers into my ear. Oh god, not again.

"We're still on the clock, Matt…" I whimper as he squeezes me again. He releases me suddenly and throws me down on to my back, and stands up.

"I told you, Mel." He growls, slapping the riding crop into his hands. "You call me _Master_ understand?" Matt raises a foot, and firmly places it between my legs. Oh god yes…

I smirk up at him. "Then don't call me by name, _Master_." I tease. "Call me a useless piece of shit." Matt smiles at me, slapping the riding crop in his hands again.

"That can be arranged." He chuckles, a glint of malice flickering in his eyes. He crouches down to my level. I begin to moan out, his foot is pressing roughly against me.

"M-master…" I moan, tilting my head to the side.

"Much better." He sneers, his expression dark and sinister, as he removes his foot from my crotch. "Fuckin' waste of space." He says, standing up, and examining me. His foot taps the side of my head, turning it the other way, taking a look at my body, as well as the horrific scar on my face. "You're fuckin' trash. Why the fuck're you here?" He bends over, raising his leg, stamping down on my chest.

I say nothing, aside from the gasp of air rushing from my lungs.

Matt becomes a magician. The crop vanishes and becomes replaced with a whip from behind him. He must keep it attached to him all the time. His body lowers again, this time…He grasps a hold of me by the shoulders, bringing me up, carrying me to my feet. I stumble at his roughness.

Before I know it, Matt has spun me around and slammed me into the black, cement brick walls of the room. My back becomes exposed to him.

I know exactly what's coming.

Oh how I embrace it.

Yes Master…

Whip me.

Make me pay for my insolence.

Yes Master…yes…

Matt's hands twist around the handle.

His arm raises high into the air.

And leather lashes against my back in flesh splitting forces.

I throw my head back, my mouth opens wide and I release an inhuman scream.

"Y-yes! YES MASTER!" I scream, my fingers dancing with one another so incredibly desperate for something to latch on to. Yes Master…Oh god, yes.

"And I was being gentle." Matt says, coming behind me with his fingers twisted in my hair as to yank my head back to look at him. His other hand slides along the friction burn he has left me. He was being gentle. My flesh hasn't been torn in the slightest.

His breath is so warm against the flesh of my ear. I can feel the condensation from his moist carbon dioxide he has released, beginning to build on my flesh. Matt's tongue slides along the edge of my ear. I can feel each bump of his tastes buds fleck against me.

It's been a while since I've felt my pants this tight.

I whimper softly as his fingers run along the lines of assault decorating my back. His hands are so light…but so…forceful.

"Say it." Matt hisses into my ear. "Say what you want from me, you worthless little shit." His mouth opens wide, and with an immeasurable PSI, he slams his jaw down on the curve of my ear. I cringe, hissing slightly from the pain, as I almost scream at his intensity.

"A-Anything…" I gasp, my eyes closing roughly, miniscule tears of pain forming at their creased corners. "A-anything you will give me, Master." Matt laughs. He's found humor in my weak desperation.

Oh god…

Matt's laugh is deep, but soft, all situated deep in his throat.

I can feel him smirking down at me like some crippled animal.

Matt…M-master…

He throws his head, his crimson hair spreading out against his neck.

He comes directly up behind me.

Don't laugh like that Matt…N-no…Master.

His hand slams between my legs from behind, cupping me roughly.

Y-you turn me on too much.

His nails dig into me through the leather.

My head tilts back, I scream out. My hands ball into fists.

"Y-yes, Master!" I scream, the small tears in my ears rolling down my face to land on the blackened concrete below.

"I can't fucking hear you!" Matt roars in my ears with a deafening volume, as his hands squeeze roughly around me. Oh god…I can't tell if it's painful...

"_YES, MASTER!_" I scream again, this time, loud enough to silence any other clients within this building.

"I kinda like seein' you like this, Mel." Matt growls into my ear as his body presses up against mine. I can feel the cool sting of his chest against my back. I gasp softly as the feel of his body along mine. I'm not used to the feeling of his crotch being aligned with my ass. "I kinda wanna fuck you, right now." He releases that throaty, kinky laugh into my ear again.

"P-please…" I find myself begging, my fists clenching even tighter. Anymore, my nails would be piecing the flesh of my palms. "Ch-christ Matt…fu-fuck me…"

Matt's body pulls away from mine. I whimper in protest.

But my whimper turns into a shriek of pain.

He's not afraid to be rough with me.

In the time I had begun to plead…Matt had yanked away from me. His arm with the whip rose high into the air. And he had slammed the leather against my back with little to no mercy.

This time, he has torn the flesh.

I feel the blood begin to ooze and trickle down my back. Some of it slides into my pants, some over the leather and down my leg.

I begin to hyperventilate. Something in my mind registers that the wounds are bigger than they actually are.

But Matt…being the sadist I never knew he was, couches behind me, and presses his tongue against a small, open wound. Just this one wound.

Enough to gush blood. But not enough to be threatening.

I moan out. Somehow Matt hasn't hit my wrists which were bound just millimeters about the slice the whip produced.

It's exceedingly small, perhaps an inch at the largest. I can't tell, I can't look at my back.

But it's directly over my pant line. And Matt is just centimeters away from giving me a rim job as he licks away at my wound.

"M-master…" I gasp, knowing it to be a mistake to call him Matt again. I can't say it to him. He'll hurt me.

I kind of want him to.

"What's wrong?" he asks, removing his mouth from my gash. "Where'd your balls go? Where'd your cockiness to call me by my name go?" He laughs, standing upright and pressing his body against my back once more. Matt presses his tongue against my earlobe again.

"Y-you whipped me, Master…" I whimper. I can feel a small part of me beginning to break. Yes…that's what I came here for. I wanted to be abused.

"Heh." Matt chuckles. "I didn't whip you for that." His hand slams between my legs again, cupping me roughly. I wince, and cry out softly. "It's that you asked me to fuck you." He made a slight 'tsk tsk' sound. "You know we're not allowed to fuck—"

I begin to whine in protest.

"—But."

My eyes light up.

"Seeing as how I fuck you as is…" Matt lets out that laugh again. Christ, Matt…stop… "If anyone catches us…"

"Oh god, please, Master…" I shout suddenly. "Just fuck me! Who the fuck cares if anyone walks in—"

"I like your thinking." Matt chuckles.

He grabs me by the chain holding my wrists together and yanks me at him, away from the wall. He makes quick work of me, tossing his code of a dominatrix aside, and unlatches the handcuffs with a convenient quick release lock.

Matt grows violent, and the moment my hands are free, he throws me to the ground in front of one of the many poles in the room. I smile up at him like the sadist I am, only to receive a mirror image of my smile returned my way. His foot lands between my legs, and crouches down, sending a wave of pleasure through me as the pressure surges through my erection. Once he's at an appropriate level, he grabs both of my arms, hoisting them up over my head. My red-haired lover/dominatrix reveals my handcuffs to me once more, and latches one around my wrist. The chain becomes looped around the pole and then the action is repeated around my other wrist.

And this was when…

Matt and I broke the code of being a dominatrix.

He smirked at me and leaned down so we were eye level.

"Say it." He says with a hint of masochism.

"Say what?" I ask cockily in response.

Matt raises a hand and strikes me across the face. "You know damn well _what_." He sneers. I smirk.

I yank on the chains, and strain my arms, allowing my body to move into an arc. I close my eyes, and stretch out in a disdained position. And with ever fiber of anguish within me…I moan and say:

"_Yes, Master…please…do with me what you will!_"


End file.
